


do things change?

by thinasadime



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Domestic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Isolation, Loneliness, M/M, Murder, Torture, Vomit, fellas its kinda fucked up, kinda????
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinasadime/pseuds/thinasadime
Summary: He doesn't know if the hits land harder now or if he's slipping. Far, far down where no amount of biting through ropes will get him any light.Levi doesn't know.
Relationships: Levi/Erwin Smith
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	do things change?

**Author's Note:**

> who let me write at 3 am when I have a fic I haven't updated in eight months??also this might make zero sense because I just straight up wrote it at 3 and immediately posted it. It is six in the morning. I am exhaustion.  
> I hope you enjoy ^^

Levi hated many things. So many things. Hated the way the sky never seemed to clear up, a constant gloom. The clouds almost never moved, and it seemed the sky had permanently changed into this disgusting muted bile color. Levi hated the way Kenny looked at him. The way the raindrops fell sharp and angry, the way the ground seemed to want to swallow him whole with every step. Hates the ugly creaking of their empty apartment, the neverending emptiness that never seems to get solved. Hated the neighbors' faces, the cigarette smoke that clings to every molecule of air.

Levi could almost positively say he doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen the sun; bright and clear. Doesn’t remember what it really felt to sleep or be awake, somehow stuck between both of them. Doesn’t understand time anymore, school, work- _did he ever work? What were his classes? What did Levi do before?_ _What did he do today?_

On days where the curtains were closed and he couldn’t tell his right from his left, or anything about everything, where he almost forgot about his hands that were tied tightly behind his back were it not for the feel of the thin rope cutting into them, Levi would imagine slitting his parents’ throats. 

It was dark, wherever he was - _ was it a room? Or a closet? _ \- and the only light he manages to catch a glimpse of is from near the ground. Peaking from the small space beneath a door, he’s sure, but he doesn’t know how far or close it is. Could've been miles away, for all he knew. The overwhelming darkness gives space to his mind to draw and paint scenes onto it in neon colors, snippets of muppet-plays he’s sure he’s seen because he knows he can’t come up with something that creative, or scenery of beaches and awfully monotone screams of birds. 

Levi is used to not knowing whether his eyes are closed or not because either way, it’s black, and whether they are or not it doesn’t stop his imagination from running wild. 

Levi never knew his parents. Never seen them. Doesn’t know what they look like and can’t imagine it, but that doesn’t stop him. He would lay or sit, or whatever it was that day, and if he could he’d drag his hands over his eyes to make sure they’re sealed and imagine two faceless people in front of him. The small pocket knife Kenny gave to him would do more than fine. Behind his eyes, his hands have a death grip on the small handle. He can almost feel the way the wood snaps and splinters into his palms, the weight of the blade pushing into their flesh, the resistance he meets and overpowers is euphoric. The way he vividly hears their screams, agonized and frantic, almost as frantic as he’ll feel when the image inevitably slips away, the way he feels his clothes warm as they get splattered by their filthy blood. But it isn’t theirs, it’s all his, every time. And he somehow bleeds and more and more with every hit that lands. But for a few moments, he’s blissed out. Seeing their crumbling, twitching bodies on the ground at his feet brings him a joy nothing else can. Never felt something that could come close to it. His anger seeps out along with their growing puddle, and satisfaction takes its place. Filling him with a warmth akin to that of having his favorite meal after years.  _ What was his favorite food? _

Levi’s stomach loudly grumbles and he gives a wince, face scrunching up at the pain that spreads throughout his entire body. His eyes are open, that he’s sure of because blinking gets his head throbbing. It’s still dark, but this time he’s starving along with it. 

He might’ve fallen asleep because he doesn’t recall being this hungry the last time he was thinking, but maybe he just simply doesn’t remember it. He’s thirsty too, every breath burns his already dry throat. There’s no one around, there never is, it’s always him and the neon swirls that hurt his eyes. 

It’s so lonely. 

Levi wonders if he’s dying. 

__

  
  


Kenny, Levi comes to find out over the course of his life with him, is beyond merciless.

He’s rarely drunk or high, despite dealing with all sorts of drugs and narcs. Either that, or he’s never home when he is. But Kenny is home often, almost all the time. Every time Levi was awake and coherent there he was, looming on top of him like he’s nothing more than prey, like Kenny’s entire purpose is to be right there. Levi knows that he likes nothing more than making him beg, and it’s not like he has any pride or dignity- _ he’s fucking nine and he just wants to survive _ \- so he screams his pleas through sobs until his voice gives out. Until his throat feels like sandpaper and his mouth gets stuck open in the hope of getting something out. Something that might make Kenny go, leave him alone until it hurts too much to stay awake. Make him slip between the cracks of the wooden floor and find himself anywhere else. Maybe somewhere with sun and warmth and easiness. 

He wonders if they don’t have neighbors because he’s absolutely sure he screams. As loud as he can. Do they not hear? Or do they not care? Doesn’t it bother anyone other than Levi himself?

Kenny’s long, dirty fingers would shove themselves down his throat, gripping at his jaw with a force that makes him worry Kenny will break his jaw. His face is mere inches from Levi’s and he can smell the cigarette smoke on his breath. Kenny speaks, always and constantly speaking, but Levi never hears a word over his gagging and he sees the satisfaction that settles onto Kenny’s face when another batch of hot tears run down his face.

Kenny is not a raging alcoholic, not a junkie, just a twisted motherfucker. And the thought makes Levi feel worse because there’s nothing and no one else to blame for this. Nothing to blame for the chairs he’s bound to or the sheer joy that paints Kenny’s face when Levi stops moving, stops squirming, and lets the cane rain down like hellfire, lowers his eyes to the floor, and watches as his blood and tears mix together on the ground. 

Levi doesn’t really know why. Maybe he acts bad and the man gets bothered by him. Maybe he doesn’t want him. But if that was the case, why wouldn’t he just throw him out? Lets him die on the side of the road, rot under the heat of the sun until he’s nothing but maggots and bones. 

How free it would feel when he’s dead, and maybe if he ever gets to meet his parents in the afterlife if there even is such a thing, he’d have his chance to gouge their eyes out with his hands. 

____

Levi is nine. He’s a fourth-grader. He showers in the mornings before school when he’s able to go and brushes his teeth four times. Twice before showering and twice before going out the door. His bag is almost always empty, except for a pencil case Kenny got him a couple of years back when he’d felt like being nice and his sheets of homework. The pencil case looks better than new because Levi cares about it more than he cares about himself.

The pencil case reminds him that Kenny is nice. Even if it’s rare, it’s there and the example rests in his hands. 

Levi does school on auto-pilot. The teachers never seem to notice his swollen face, and they never call on him anyway. Never call on anyone for that matter, just talk and talk and leave until the next comes in and everything repeats. It’s okay. It's nice and safe and he even sometimes manages to catch thirty minutes of uninterrupted sleep that feels like heaven. Until the bell rings and he feels his body turn into stone while everyone starts swarming the gates. 

Levi wants to cry. He wants to hide under one of the desks and waste away there, never to be found again. 

No matter where he finds himself, the sky stays a dreadful rotten color, dirty, and god he _hates everything_.

It’s not all bad. Levi wouldn’t be selfish as to deny Kenny’s good no matter how bitter it makes him.

Sometimes he takes him on walks. They walk around the block and it’s only then that the sky seems to lighten up. Sometimes he cooks for them, something small and easy and it makes Levi feel nice. Or when Kenny would tell him stories from his work and his wide eyes would glue themselves onto the elder like he’s telling him the secrets of the world. Levi learns to take what he can get.

Kenny opens the door for him when he gets home and grabs his chin roughly and yanks it up. Levi knows not to wince because Kenny likes to pretend nothing ever happened. He likes to think it’s because he regrets it every time, that it’s not so Kenny can always relive the sweetness like it’s the first. His eye twitches anyway.

___

Levi is fourteen and the living room window is wide open and _ fuck why won’t he just do it, why won’t he fucking do it. _

Kenny’s hands are buried in his hair, pulling with all his might that Levi couldn’t stop himself from crying out. His face collides with the dinner table so hard the cups fall off completely, and his brain jerks from side to side inside his skull. The pain is so familiar but it never feels better. Always hot and blinding, leaving him gasping for a few minutes after. But Kenny won’t give him a few  _ minutes  _ because his head is already getting pulled up again. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear I’m sorry,” he blabbers frantically, hoping to stave off any more but his mouth stays open for a second too long and there’s food shoved inside. He can’t tell what it is, but thinks it’s bread from the texture, and almost hurls as Kenny clamps his jaw shut like a nutcracker. His body jerks as another gag hits him by the way the bread starts to sog inside his mouth. The saliva that fills his mouth makes his eyes spring with tears. It’s disgusting, it’s fucking vile and Levi can’t fucking deal with it. His hands uselessly try to pry the others, but Kenny is far stronger than he is and somehow he’s managed to piss him off. He was nauseous from barely having had anything in almost a week and he had to eat slowly as to not throw up. Levi couldn’t handle throwing up. Couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t, and he’d much rather take three hours to finish one piece of bread than risk vomiting. Kenny thought otherwise. He didn’t know what bothered him this time. He barely knows what bothers him anymore. 

Levi can’t deal, he can’t deal, he fucking can’t keep doing this and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t kill himself or run away. Doesn’t know what he’s afraid of when there’s nothing that could be worse than Kenny and his sadistic tendencies. 

He’s knocked off the chair roughly and he spills onto the floor, coughs up whatever he can. The image of the soaked piece of mush makes his stomach churn and he scrambles to get away. He’s tired, so tired he can barely stand and he just wants to sleep. He locks the door to his room as he runs inside, gulping air like his life depended on it while the other bangs on the door. Locking his door is something relatively new, he doesn’t know how he managed to survive after the first time he did it but it’s now an escape, a layer of faux safety that he allows himself to use only when it’s absolutely dire. The banging rattles his very bones, leaves him shivering and trembling and so scared, so fucking scared and he feels like a kid again. Like the helpless child that he still is. Because he’ll open that door eventually and Kenny’s going to be there, waiting for no one other than him. And he’ll take what Kenny gives him because he can’t fight back. He’ll take it screaming around a pair of socks and tied up hands.

It’s a routine that he never thinks he’ll break.

___

At sixteen, Levi’s breaths are coming out in quick bursts as a knife slides down the length of his back. He’d lost his voice long ago, he doesn’t think he screamed to begin with. His eyes roll back as another shallow cut is made, blood seeps out and covers him like a blanket while Kenny talks behind him. 

He’s on the bed, tied to the headboard. It’s always the same thin rope that cut into his wrists deep; so struggling is futile. It’ll only hurt more. Anything he does, it all just hurts more. The knife digs in from where Kenny is standing beside him, leaning down and slowly dragging, marveling at the droplets of red that ooze out. He can’t stop himself from reaching down and smearing it, causing the kid to jerk at the burn of his finger. 

Kenny huffs a smirk as Levi’s eyes somehow widen even more when he presses his hand to the cuts, lets the blood slip onto the sheets in little streams. 

“You’re so much like her I want to  _ ruin _ you,” Kenny hisses in his ear, full of hatred and malice, then goes back to slicing him up. 

If he thinks about it, if he lives it, he thinks he might go insane. 

It hurts, it hurts so much he wants to throw up, wants to curl up and cry until he passes out, and feels nothing more

But he’s not there now, he’s all the way on an island by himself where he swims all day every day and eats fish and nuts he collects from the forest. 

There’s a forest on that island, and it has these big birds that guard a magical kind of fruit. They’re vicious, and whenever Levi tries to get close they scratch him until he bleeds through his clothes. But it’s okay because he took something from them. He deserves it. 

Levi wonders if he took something from Kenny, too. 

Levi wonders if he’ll offer his hands every time Kenny shows him the ropes. 

__

Levi is sixteen, and his heart is racing faster than he thought possible. He’s dying, he’s going to die and he can’t breathe, can’t do a thing besides look. He's torn into two and he doesn't know what to do.  


It doesn't feel as good as he thought it would. This wasn’t a faceless shape, but a warm body that he’s going to turn cold soon. He’s screaming, low and guttural as Levi plunges the knife inside his abdomen again and again and again with all his might, feels the tissue give away and tear beneath him. 

Levi spent years of his life fantasizing about killing his parents, who probably didn’t fucking exist. What kept him sane all those years ago was breaking him in half. It sprays him red as he watches himself almost from afar drive the knife back in and out, the puddle growing bigger beneath the both of them. It soaks through his pants from where he’s kneeling on top of the man, watches it dye the wood a deeper color. It’s warm on his hands when the knife's handle snaps in two, when Kenny stops making noise, stops struggling, and starts to pale. It’s warm where he presses onto one of the holes he’s created through labored breathing, sees how it’s flooding through his fingers uncontrollably. He feels horrified, fucking terrified at the way that this time he's not the one that's hurting. Not the one bleeding to death. His lungs are collapsing onto themselves, Levi is collapsing from the inside and it feels like god is looking down on him and only him.  


Kenny would die under him in utter and complete agony. Levi doesn't know what to do, but what he does know is that the screams that echo in his ears are nothing compared to the years of fucking suffering he had to go through purely because Kenny was a fucking psychopath. Tied and gagged and in constant pain, more than he ever thought was possible to feel. It's not fair how after all this time, all those years he spent convincing himself the only way he'd feel complete was with their blood on his hands, It doesn't feel like closure. Levi's as lost as he was a week ago. Maybe just a bit more broken now that Kenny's face burns a hole in his brain.

Kenny doesn’t take his eyes off of Levi’s. The same ones that drip tears onto his chest. 

The last thing Kenny hears is the cries of his nephew. 

**Author's Note:**

> dw dw erwin comes in next. maybe levi even gets a hug!


End file.
